


throw rocks at the devil

by pixiepuff (colourmecrunchy)



Category: Merlin (TV) RPF
Genre: Emotions, M/M, Thinking, latent jealousy and possessiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-25
Updated: 2012-09-25
Packaged: 2017-11-15 01:30:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/521656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colourmecrunchy/pseuds/pixiepuff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>post-NTA 2012. we all know what Bradley was like that night, don't we?</p>
<p><em>Bradley was not meant to stand all proud and</em> lie <em>at the same time. It's demeaning, degrading for such a strong, vivid personality. He cannot reject his reality for the sake of the prosperity of his career, just because someone some day decided he can't walk the red carpet holding a hand of a man. A man who shares an awful lot more than just his bed and his dreams. Colin still can't quite believe he gets to play that role in Bradley's life, that he was entrusted with it so freely.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	throw rocks at the devil

**Author's Note:**

> don't fret when the name "Brooch" appears - in some of my stories, Colin and Bradley have a pet stoat called Brooch (might post those as Brooch 'verse), but you're really not missing any important details by not knowing those fics, seeing the pet is just mentioned like once or twice marginally

Colin can _feel_ it forming.

It's _that_ intense.

Perhaps it shouldn't come as a surprise - they've done this many, many times before and just what exactly makes tonight so much different, he doesn't really know. But it's there. He can feel it. Before it even starts.

The build up is slow with a promise of an ominous clash and it's somewhere in the back of his mind constantly and he can't shake it. Not this. Call it sixth sense or just painful familiarity with the person you spend every day of your life with, but giving it a name will not really avert it, post-pone it, or make it any less overwhelming. It creeps up on them from god knows where, and he thinks he knows - it's the same as always, that bit _is_ the same, it's the numerous cameras and inadequate reporters with even more inadequate, dodgy questions; it's the thick, warm air that makes them feel trapped, they're at display like some caged animals, but even _they_ feel more free, as animals have nothing to hide.

 

_They_ do.

 

And it's oppressive and looming overhead like a warning, _do not move too close, do not maintain eye contact for too long, do not slip in your answers, do not talk about anything but work. _Deny your whole existence. Deny the brilliant man next to you, do not address his significance in your life. Do not marvel at all that he is and all that you are with him, the unstoppable force you are _together_. Colin is aware of it, as always. And it subdues him, his jubilant ways, steadies his pace and makes every single move planned, mapped out, predicted.

 

He's still got it much better than Bradley.

 

Bradley, that uplifting creature in his life with all of his exuberant naivety, frantic thoughts, reverent touches and humble sureness, has it _so_ much worse than him. It's killing Colin, probably almost as much as it's killing him. Bradley was not meant to stand proud and _lie_ at the same time. It's demeaning, degrading for such a strong, vivid personality. He cannot reject his reality for the sake of the prosperity of his career, just because someone some day decided he can't walk the red carpet holding a hand of a man. A man who shares an awful lot more than just his bed and his dreams. Colin still can't quite believe he gets to play _that_ role in Bradley's life, that he was entrusted with it so freely.

_Relax, Colin_ , he sometimes says to himself. _It's only the grandest thing in the universe that you're holding in your hands._ While sitting on a mono-cycle with a flat tire, and the whole world strives to bring you down back to the mud, where you belong. Alone and unloved.

He winces and almost takes Bradley's hand.

He doesn't know if Bradley notices, but his jaw is set firmly, squarely, the delicate bones of his jaw line constricting against his skin as if he's fighting to keep the tempest in. And failing.

 

This event is worse than others. They are separated several times, and when they are graced to share some personal space together, it is under blinding, hot lights that leave nothing unnoticed. The air is stifling, Colin tugs at his collar several times. He manages to switch into _lovely Colin_ for the interview and his mind is too sluggish, too slow to block the futile and rather pitiful, he thinks, attempt at flirting of the reporter. Colin is too far back inside his own head, willing the world to spin faster to notice and it's the set of Bradley's jaw and his inability to do anything but grit his teeth, openly, _warningly_ , menacingly at the silly little reporter with an unfortunate hair and even worse vocabulary, and Colin _knows_.

 

Tonight is the worst.

 

He feels the helplessness, the strain, the wrecked nerves and troubled thoughts radiating off from Bradley, coming off of him in waves, and Colin is so attuned to it he feels every small vibration of air against him as a punch. Bradley shudders, then, hardly visible but it makes Colin gasp and waver on his feet. Words like _furious, fuming, seething_ don't feel like enough, no, because they only describe an acute state of _anger_.

This is _tragic_.

It is desperation, a burdened dread of a condemned man, deprived of the most basic emotion, deprived of love and he looks at his very edge of dealing with this spiral of hurt, no safety-nets underneath.

 

Colin needs to be that safety net. He _has_ to be. He dares not think what would become if he wasn't. If someone told him years ago he would become so invested with another being, so connected and so terrifically co-dependent, he would never believe it. Because that is for the _legends_ , for impossible tales of two people risking everything, _everything_ for each other.

But this legend has become his life.

He loves his life, he loves living in general; it is much more promising than dying or ceasing to exist and he would fight with teeth and nails to be able to go on. But he _knows_ for a while now. He knows all of it wouldn't matter if Bradley's own life was on the line, if something threatened to nullify him. It scares him, sometimes, that he knows, knows with such certainty as you know the sun will rise in the east and that the mailman will always leave the flap open on a rainy day, that he would put himself in front of Bradley. Anything to protect him. It is a heady feeling, knowing this about yourself. The complete lack of reluctance of dying for another human being. Without Bradley, there is no Colin, and as dysfunctional as it may seem, he's long accepted that belonging to someone so completely has never felt so freeing. So _un_ chained. Where ever you go, you know where you _belong_. It keeps him grounded in situations like  this one, it's like an internal ever-burning talisman, a compass that only every points Bradley-North and this is where he draws his power from.

He realizes it might be easier for him _exactly_ because of this.

Maybe Bradley doesn't understand. Doesn't have his compass yet. Maybe he knows, deep down and high up that this, _this _ is what is his to have and worship and devastate if he so chooses, but perhaps he hasn't found the right words yet.

 

Colin gets him out of there. He's unwavering, unrelenting, and Bradley goes willingly, thrumming with all the energy bubbling right beneath the surface and Colin wills him to last a little bit longer, to endure this for a few agonizing minutes more, for him, for _them_ , and he does. He does.

He _always_ does, but tonight was close, Colin is petrified in his awareness that they were right on the very edge. He doesn't mean to sound haunted, but the rules and the forbiddance made them slightly paranoid, afraid of their own shadows.

 

He smiles reassuringly at Bradley in the elevator. He doesn't know how he manages it, to look more certain than he feels, but maybe that is again only there for Bradley, when he looks unfocused and anguished, and the last few steps towards their apartment feel like _the last mile_ to walk before something impending and significant and _final_ happens.

 

Inside everything is dark and still, a complete opposite of what they feel themselves. Even Brooch is asleep on the couch, un-stirring, and for once, Colin is glad of this. As much as he is like a child to them, to _both_ of them, Colin is pretty certain that tonight, Bradley won't be able to share him. Not again.

 

In the bedroom, after the door closes behind them as if the world and its ever seeing eyes are gone now, not needed and wanted, that this is here for them only, a peaceful haven in a storm of bewilderment and spite, Bradley looks less tormented at last. Wordlessly, he crowds Colin against a wall, pressing tightly against him and enveloping him completely, breathing shakily into his neck but unmoving otherwise. Colin feels as if the tables have turned and that Bradley is now the one who thinks he has to protect and keep safe, and if that is what he needs to feel to keep his sanity, Colin will let him. Gladly.

He waits until Bradley's breathing calms from erratic, shallow breaths against his neck to slow, powerful expansions of his chest and feels the full weight that was pressing into him and trapping him between Bradley and the wall, lifting. Bradley's gaze is blazing while his deft hands strip Colin out of his suit jacket and he doesn't miss the snarl with which Bradley chucks the bow tie away. He feels it again, the all-encompassing need rolling off of Bradley when he watches him, so unguarded and openly that Colin would lay down and die if that was his destiny in that very moment, but he is thankful it is _not_ , because he really wouldn't want to miss Bradley unbuttoning both of their dress shirts now.

He gets impatient half way and with one fast, well-delivered movement, the remaining buttons imitating the sound of raindrops on the bedroom floor and Colin feels first the cool air hit his torso and then in a brilliant contrast, Bradley's warm hands that slide up and down the exposed skin.

He sags against the wall a bit, sensing the change in the air. Bradley's moves are faster again, frantic almost as he undresses them both and then pushes against Colin again, all skin on skin now, and the cold wall behind him makes Colin shiver and press forward into Bradley. He gasps, all he _can_ do is gasp when Bradley's mouth find his neck and bite into it mercilessly, as if claiming him and Colin winds his long fingers into Bradley's hair, scraping gently against the scalp. Bradley noses his way to the other side of his neck now and bites again, and again, and his hands come to take Colin's out of his hair and pins them up against the wall, above their heads. Colin shudders, feeling slightly claustrophobic in this complete cocoon made of Bradley's skin, but at the same time it is reassuring, and he whines low in his throat at how hard Bradley is against his hip.

Bradley claims his lips next, hot and open and possessively close, his tongue trying to all but eat Colin out, starting with his mouth, and just like that, Colin knows the sex will be _intense_ tonight. He knows it will be _nothing_ like those lazy mornings when the sun shines warm through the curtains, making the dust spectacles sparkle in the light and they're still half asleep and rocking minutely and slowly against each other. This will not be gentle, and he can tell it from the way his neck is already sore from the bites. He mouths along Bradley's ear and tries to rub against him with his hands still trapped above him, but otherwise lets Bradley set the pace, dictate the rhythm, control the moving. Bradley looks distraught, almost possessed, hands leaving Colin's now and coming back down to touch everywhere he can reach with short, stuttery movements and gasping, "I need-"

 

And Colin knows. He knows exactly what Bradley needs, he needs to _take_ him, stake the claim, make him completely and utterly his again, devour him whole and leave nothing behind for others, and he is so okay with that. The threat of the roughest sex in his life might scare him on any other day, but tonight they're on the same wavelength, he needs it just as much and wails quietly at the thought of what's to come.

He pushes away from the wall and goes to crouch on the bed on all fours, looking over his shoulder at Bradley, whose eyes become inhabited by something dark and carnal as he stares at Colin. The height is perfect and they both moan when Bradley presses against his ass with his cock, hands hot and heavy on Colin's back.

"I need, I _need_ -" he repeats again, his hands clutching hard at Colin's hips now, digging in, and there _will_ be bruises later, finger-shaped bruises and Colin gasps again because the feeling of someone wanting you so badly, wanting to _own_ you so much is heady and he presses back.

Bradley moves away slightly then, and his fingers splay lightly across Colin's ass, his thumbs nearly touching in the middle. The next movement is fast and deliberate then, contrast to the momentary soft caress of skin moments before, as his thumbs spread Colin apart and keep him that way. Colin moans aloud, picturing the sight in his mind and feels slightly dizzy, knowing Bradley is just standing there, all high-strung muscles and half-melted resolve, ready to snap, looking at such an intimate part of Colin's body, just looking and waiting and savoring this singular moment of stillness, because they both know it won't be like that for much longer.

Colin feels on display like this, his face burning hot and body trembling with eagerness and want, and he doesn't think for a second that it might only be him, but is still taken aback at how desperate Bradley must be, feeling his hands and fingers shaking violently where they hold him. He manages to bring one of his hands up, supporting his weight with just the other one, reaching behind himself and finding Bradley's hands. He covers one of them and squeezes, gasps _make me yours, please_ and his skin prickles at the sound that escapes Bradley's lips. His next movements are all fast and unforgiving, his slick finger rubbing against Colin's entrance and he whimpers and lets his head fall down, his chin hitting his chest, when Bradley pushes the finger inside. He pushes back against it instantly and welcomes the stretch. It is nothing new by now and he covets  this helpless feeling of total intimacy of Bradley's fingers inside him, touching him somewhere so personal it makes his head spin and moan with abandon when Bradley finds the prostate and makes him writhe in pleasure. Tonight, he's almost _evil_ about it, his two fingers inside Colin feeling around for the elusive bundle of nerves and when he's sure he's got it, he presses down hard against it, and then again, and again. Colin convulses and shouts, the over-stimulation making him see white sparks, and then he chokes on too many emotions because Bradley bends fast over his back, kisses his neck frantically, murmuring _sorry, sorry, sorry_. Colin can't reply but silently demands for more and it is quite extraordinary how Bradley knows what he wants, because the logical step would be to be more _gentle_ and yet he just thrusts another finger inside, breathing hard against his back.

When he can't wait any longer, Bradley pushes him down against the bed then and flips him over, looking so hungry Colin's eyes flutter closed for a moment, but then Bradley reaches towards the heap of stuff he pulled out of the drawer in search for the lube earlier, and Colin stills his hand.

"No," he breathes. "Without. _Please_."

 

They've done it before, twice, and both times came their brains out at the feel of nothing between them at all, nothing dividing them, just total skin on skin, skin _in_ skin and Colin doesn't want anything between them tonight either.

"Okay," is what Bradley whispers, but he whispers it low and dangerous, as if given an invitation for _something_ , and Colin realizes he can't wait to find out what it is. Every single thought is driven from his mind then because Bradley pushes in, pushes in completly, as far as he can go in one fast, hard thrust and falls down against Colin's chest. Colin keens low and squeezes his muscles in retaliation around Bradley, who chokes on air at the sensation and kisses Colin hard. He starts moving then, no finesse, in and out, all fast and imperfect rhythm but he's invading all of Colin, and Colin can feel all of his desperation and sorrow and fury at the unfairness of the world and their situation melt into his moves and just _takes_ it all, freeing his mouth from the kiss to moan and yell and writhe at the onslaught. He feels being taken like never before and it's not surprising, given how tightly-wound Bradley has been all evening at the awards. He feels his very soul is being penetrated, looked at and _worshiped_ and pities himself for only a moment that Bradley could seduce him without words time and time again, but then pleasure takes over again as he's being slid across the sheets, half a foot per thrust and wraps his legs around Bradley's waist to take him deeper.

Bradley is gasping against his neck, and it feels like he's trying to form words but fails every time and Colin can't have that; if Bradley struggles with something he needs to help, needs to make it better, because that's why he's here for, his sole purpose sometimes zooms in on being there for Bradley when he needs him, so he kisses his cheeks, as many times as he can before his breath runs out and until he still remembers how to speak himself,

"What do you need, love?"

Bradley wails then, and it feels like it is the endearment that kills him, because he stills completely and looks down at Colin with something new in his eyes, just as bright and strong as all the lust, he looks like he finally _knows_ , and Colin loses his breath for a moment because he thinks _ this is it_, he's found his compass, and then Bradley breathes, voice thick with emotion, " _be my husband_ ".

 

A sob finds its way out of Colin's throat at this and before Bradley even starts moving again, he is coming, hard and fast between them, streaking their torsos with his come, mixing it with all the sweat and unspoken promises.  
When the white sparkles are gone from his vision and his perception of the world around him returns, he notices Bradley is about to pull out, still hard, to finish with the aid of his hands.

" _No_ ," he urges, and repeats it, twice, _no no-_ , when his legs squeeze around Bradley again, pushing him back in. He whimpers when Bradley hits his prostate and it's a little bit painful, but he can't, he _won't_ be parted with Bradley yet, he wants him to climb inside him and live there, because-

_Husbands_.

"Move, please," he manages, and Bradley kisses him then, sweet and slow.

"Are you sure? You're gonna be really sensitive."

His voice is full of concern and Colin knows, as certain again as he is about the sun coming up and their mailman being daft, that Bradley would never let anything happen to _him_ , either. He nods and kisses back and manages to swallow only about half of his choked cries as Bradley starts rocking again, a bit slower this time but still sure and steady and it's delicious and painful and over-stimulating and dizzying and powerful and against all odds, Colin soon hardens _again_.

Bradley seems to notice it too, because he's clutching Colin's face between his hands and is kissing him worriedly, his voice shaking a little. "Can you come again? So soon?"

Colin grunts and pants for some air and manages a frisky "Why don't we find out?", which seems to be all Bradley needed to pick up his pace again. Colin stares up, mesmerized by the delirious look on Bradley's face, as if he's had several epiphanies as grand as the Tower of London and infinitely more important, and kisses back every time Bradley ducks his head to bump their noses or eyelashes or chins, and Colin realizes Bradley's holding back. For him. So he can have a _second_ orgasm while Bradley's denying himself his _first_ one. _Well that just won't do at all_ , not if Colin has _any_ saying in it.

He holds Bradley close by the neck then and moans, breathless and blissed out of his mind, riding high on post-orgasm afterglow, new erection and the power of love, "but you already _are_ my husband" and then feels Bradley shudder in his orgasm so violently their bed creaks underneath. He holds his face close, almost squashing them against each other so they share breaths and disbelieving looks until Bradley stops shaking like he's about to faint. Bradley then pulls out and sits up and lifts Colin's left hand. Colin watches in a haze, curious but  not doubting, trusting completely, and then Bradley simultaneously kisses his ring finger and squeezes his cock and strokes once, twice, and Colin arches off the bed with a scream of "shit, _fuck_ " and comes all over Bradley's hand.

Bradley throws himself at him afterwards, kissing every bit of his face he can reach and Colin giggles at the madness and tries to swat him away.

"Get _off_ , you barbarian."

His tone is light and Bradley just snorts, and then grins back with delight.

"I think you were so loud the whole building heard."

" _Good_."

 

They pause at the same time, looking at each other searchingly, almost pleadingly.

"Colin-"

"One day we won't have to worry who sees or hears." His voice is fierce and there's more in this line than just reassuring Bradley about _tonight_. It holds something deep, the unfaltering certainty for the future, for _their_ future, as if they don't actually _know_ how this is going to be and like to be reminded it's not all just some twisted dream they're in.

Bradley looks untroubled, finally, for the first time that evening, and the hesitancy is fast giving way to bone-deep satisfaction and contentedness.

Bradley seems to be contemplating just falling asleep on top of Colin, and Colin so doesn't mind, when they hear faint but persistent scratches against the door.

" _No_ ," Bradley moans and hides his face in Colin's neck.

"Come on."

"Not moving."

"He's hungry."

"You go."

"Can't."

"Why?"

"You nearly splintered me in half."

"You sore?"

"As fuck."

 

Bradley starts kissing him again, slow and languid and soft, almost apologetic and then beams at him with a wink. "I'm going to pamper my _husband all_ weekend."

 

Colin realizes he's still grinning like a lunatic even after Bradley gets up and collects Brooch in the hall, and he lets out a mixture of a snort and a giggle when he hears Bradley in the kitchen, telling Brooch,

"Now you're no longer a bastard child."

**Author's Note:**

> my cat Pippin was just diagnosed with feline leukemia, so any hits or kudos (if you enjoyed the fic) would mean more than you can possibly imagine ♥


End file.
